The Cate Blanchett Case {Cate Blanchett}

8~The Professional

Cate had called me early the next morning, asking if I could come over around lunchtime.

So swiftly I got myself up and ready to go out, looking over my phone and grimacing at a new message from my mother telling me the restaurant we were going to.

I was so confused about this whole thing, my mother never wanted to spend time with me, why now? She only did things if it benefitted her and spending a couple of hours with me wouldn't benefit her.

We'd just end up having an argument and then she'd find a way to guilt me and leave.

She always did that, blame me for stupid things that are her fault. Like the fact I don't speak to her anymore, she doesn't care whether I do or not but it's her favourite guilt trip.

The bus journey to Cate's was long and tiring, public transport wasn't my favourite but I didn't have enough money to get a car, I could barely pay for the crappy apartment I lived in.

The only reason I'm not homeless is because Jasper and Amy pitch in to help me sometimes.

I was juggling several different jobs before they started helping me out, my writing career wasn't taking off, turned out posting stuff on Wattpad wasn't going to get me recognised.

It was awful, I was overworking myself and it didn't help that I had a foul attitude and an even fowler mouth

I just had a sort of breakdown and quit all my jobs, I'd worked myself to the breaking point.

I stayed with Jasper and Amy for a while and then eventually, when I felt I could, I moved into my own apartment with their help and decided to get a job at the bank.

Which didn't end well, but I wouldn't have it any other way because otherwise I wouldn't have this job.

Sitting in Cate's living room, on her couch felt like an accomplishment, it meant that I'd made it and I got what I wanted most and that was a dream job.

Cate sat opposite me, her legs curled under her and a coffee mug in her hands.

Today, she wore dark, skinny jeans and a baggy t-shirt. Wrapped around her was a vibrant, a mix of blues, greens and purples. I couldn't make out the shapes on it and settled on the fact that it was some sort of inconsistent pattern.

She looked a bit better today, her hair was still damp from a shower she must have taken before I got here. Her eyes held a bit more life to them and her cheeks seemed a little fuller.

I'd decided that if I was pecking around in her life I'd have to be mindful of her feelings. I had to think about my words and not let them impact her so greatly.

But I also had to get answers, I just didn't want to cause her too much pain all at once. So I'd start off soft.

After pressing the record button on my phone I asked my first question, slightly nervous but confident in my abilities.

"How long were you and Andrew together?" I knew none of these questions would be pleasant, no matter how insignificant they were. They'd tear at what was already torn and break more of what's already broken.

Every question I'd ask would somehow be connected to Andrew and anything connected to Andrew seemed to upset her. Bring up memories she'd prefer to be buried.

I knew that feeling, wanting to erase memories. Most of the memories I wanted gone were connected to my mother, it's why she was a touchy subject to me.

Memories could be powerful and they could hurt just as much as a punch to the face, I'd buried so many memories of my mother that when they resurfaced they were like thousands of tiny little needles, they'd consume and overwhelm me until I couldn't take it.